


Dog Tags and Blueberry Pancakes

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Dolls Just Wants To Stay In Bed Is That So Wrong, F/M, post 2.08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: “Hey, come back here,” Dolls whispers, and she leans towards him without actually laying back down and he pushes up enough for his lips to slide into hers, feels her breath hitch.  “Get back into bed, c’mon, we don’t have to go anywhere yet.”  His hand slides up her arm, and she sighs and pulls back.  “Wrong direction.”





	Dog Tags and Blueberry Pancakes

“Hey, come back here,” Dolls whispers, and she leans towards him without actually laying back down and he pushes up enough for his lips to slide into hers, feels her breath hitch.  “Get back into bed, c’mon, we don’t have to go anywhere yet.”  His hand slides up her arm, and she sighs and pulls back.  “Wrong direction.”

“I just have to pee, God,” she laughs.  Her smile is quick and freer than he’d seen it since before last night, since… for a while, really, and he swallows a little when her hand slides up his chest as she presses a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “Promise, I’ll come right back, and we can talk _all about_ this new lazy streak,” she teases.

He smirks, bites back a comment that he can show her just how lazy he emphatically is _not_ , and lets her go, and she winks and stands and he _definitely_ watches her go.  Hey, he’s only human.  There’s a warm, bright lightness in his chest that he can’t bear squashing just yet.  Dropping back against the pillow, he doesn’t even try to stifle his smile.  He knows they have stuff they have to deal with—the widows are still out there, they have to find Doc, Wynonna has to apologize for missing Nacho Night.  But, for now, he’s happy to be here, with her, and offer and take any comfort he can.

Just when he’s about to get up and find out if she’s fallen in, the door swings open.  “Seriously?  You haven’t even moved?” she laughs, climbing under the blanket he lifts as a silent offer.  “You’re supposed to be the responsible one,” she mutters reproachfully as he turns to face her.

“You died yesterday, you need rest, I’m being so responsible right now,” he says as his fingers card through her hair.  He watches as her eyes flutter closed and her lips curl and he can’t help thinking, absolutely amazed, that he can do this, that he can have this, that she’s right there, right in front of him.

When her eyelids crack, she asks, “Are you getting mushy on me?”

He lets his thumb stroke over his cheek but doesn’t answer immediately, probably because the answer is _yeah, actually, I am_.  She snorts a little and shuffles closer, until her nose is almost touching his, and everything is swallowed up by the wide-eyed honest _something_ in her face.  “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” she breathes. 

Her hand comes up to his, grips his fingers tight, and when she kisses him it’s softer than ever before, a ghost of a touch that sucks all the breath out of him nonetheless.  He can feel her smile and, God, he could do this forever—wants to, he thinks, do this forever.  The kiss stays gentle and chaste, and her hand slides up his arm until her nails grip into the back of his shirt.  When she breaks away, he jostles her a little until her head is tucked under his chin, and he’s baffled by how easy it is, how simple it is to let himself become so utterly wrapped up in her and just _breathe_.

He must doze off.  He wakes up with her head cushioned on his arm, fingers tingling but he almost doesn’t want to disturb the moment.  She’s got his dog tags in her hand, thumb rubbing up and down the raised lettering.  He can see her eyes are distant, lost in thought, and he can’t do anything but watch.

“What are we doing?” she asks suddenly, voice low and serene, but he can see the ripple of worry across her face.

“Whatever we want,” he answers simply.

She huffs, half-laugh and half-sigh.  “That’s not an answer,” she mumbles.  Thoughtfully, she sits up, cross-legged in a position that looks mildly uncomfortable.

“What do you want us to be doing?” he asks her back.

Looking over her shoulder, she eyes him, all gentle and pensive like he’s never seen her.  “I want us to be making blueberry pancakes,” she finally responds.

“Do you have blueberries?”

Her mouth curls as she wiggles out of bed.  “I _do_ have blueberries,” she says delightedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyy, I had feelings also this was requested because we all needed Dolls convincing Wynonna to crawl back into bed with him and pretend the whole world isn't about to go to shit in ten minutes.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please feel free to check out my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) and shout at me about this show!


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